


The Man and his Shadow

by Balrog



Category: Historical RPF, Seven Pillars of Wisdom - T. E. Lawrence
Genre: Character Death, Hallucinations, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-10-02 18:43:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17269034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Balrog/pseuds/Balrog
Summary: “A man who has been through bitter experiences and travelled far enjoys even his sufferings after a time”― Homer, The Odyssey





	The Man and his Shadow

The cold glow of his red eyes when he saw me gave me a feeling of chill, of terror. It was a reflection, but not anyone, it was me and that I was on the verge of tears, independent of my own person, crying on his own in a silent grimace as if he had some words for me held in his breath.

There were seconds, in which I lower my petrified gaze to see such a malevolent creature coming to an end, remaining speechless in the fleeting encounter, but he no longer saw me with malice if not regretting having scared me for more than twenty years. I had won and there I was with my absolute seriousness, facing him face to face, lighting my eyes because I soon felt that supreme tranquility that I so longed for.

My last action was to smile at the wretch before starting Boa, watching for the last time the white fine tunics that adorned his head and body, stuck to the window like a ghost awaiting his martyrdom, wailing in fat drops of water that slipped by his cheeks. Little by little, that Lawrence and Clouds Hill, were distorted in blurry spots in the distance, as the speed increased and the world around me became nothing but the sky and the earth, collapsing on a single horizon with the road in the center, guiding me.

I closed my eyes as I felt the sweet wind caressing my face, remembering that that same air traveled hundreds of kilometers between landscapes that I never visit because I was enclosed in the one I loved most, the desert. Each time my body lightened, mixing like sand to the gentle breeze, however, I knew that my lean earthly form to make it worthy of having lived on this earth, had to go through a violent ritual, break me for leaving me unfinished and let this flow to be that it has boiled among the shadows of my entrails, like a parasite inside its nest.

Now I understood that it was to be a slave of freedom, I was about to give my body and soul to it, waiting for it to welcome me with open arms in its infinite entity. I had spent my life immersed in someone who was nothing more than a stranger, unable to imagine my thoughts or subscribe to my beliefs.

As I opened my eyes again, I sighed in a sob, wanting to cling to this life, but my ambitions were more and I let go of the handlebar when felt the madness in its proximity, as it must happen to someone who always consumed himself, attracted to the fire like a moth and my memory being left blank when hitting the pavement, no longer as an actor but as a spectator.

After all this time, I was able to taste the essence of freedom, the individual who marches alone, the son of the road, moving away from the world to go to the grave.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, as you can see english is not my first language, so there may be incongruences in my words, I pity myself for that.  
> Secondly, Ned's implied suicide is just a theory and I decided to explore it on this work, so take it as a piece of fiction.  
> thank you!


End file.
